


Sometimes

by mikovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Gallavich, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1970262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikovich/pseuds/mikovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian is visited by what he believes is a ghost who tells him he and Mickey are dead and trapped between worlds- stuck in their "Soul Dimension". Meanwhile, mysterious objects keep popping up in Mickey’s house- when he touches them he is forced to relive a memory linked to the object. In order to figure out how they died and pass on, they need to re-watch every moment of their relationship from start to finish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Here's The Dealio

          Sometimes life is horribly unexpected.

          And death is too painful of a realization for the living.

          The morning sun pushed Ian Gallagher’s eyes open. You see, death doesn’t wait for one to be ready; it doesn’t sugarcoat shit for you. It hits you. Hard. His tongue poked out and he licked his cracking lips. He sat up with a groan; the nerves over his heart sizzled and crackled in his skin. He winced, his lungs felt like they were filled with poison.

          To be honest, sometimes death doesn’t tell you it has you in its grasp- it just takes you away wordlessly. And that’s what happened to Ian Gallagher.

          He gasped, clenching his eyes shut as he waited for this strange pain to subside. When it did, his mind cleared and he felt like he’d lost something. Only he didn’t know what it was. He’d noticed that Carl wasn’t in his bed and neither was Liam. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood up, making his way to the hallway.

          Death had been around Ian for a while, but only from a distance while it took family members and friends and people from the neighborhood. The first time death saw Ian he was rather small. Death had hovered over Monica waiting to see if her soul would give out. But young Ian woke her up. Ian cheated Death.

          Ian went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face- he couldn’t shake the feeling of loss from his mind. He exited the bathroom thinking of the dream he had the night before of him and Mickey at the dugout. He couldn’t remember how it ended. He shrugged it off and opened the door to Fiona’s old room. No Lip. Maybe he’d left early for classes. He went to Fiona’s room. No Fiona. Debbie? Where the fuck was everyone? He jogged down the steps only in his boxers. The house was completely silent.

          “Guys?” He called out. No answer.

          He huffed back up the stairs, angry that wherever they’d gone they hadn’t invited him. He had just pulled on jeans when he saw something in the corner of his eye- a figure run across the hall.

          A girl’s laugh rang out behind it. “Uh, Debbie?”

          After a while of silence he shook his head, swiping up a shirt from the floor- it looked like Mickey’s. Whatever that was it must have been his imagination due to the lack of people in the house. He yawned and looked at his watch- the hands didn’t move. It must’ve broke last night. He looked at the digital clock next to Liam’s bed- 1:46 AM. It said the same time on Ian’s watch. Huh. His brows creased. Fucking weird.

          A girl’s giggle sounded from the hallway again, but this time his name was said in between each childish spurt.

         “Hey, Deb, it’s not funny!” Ian spat out to the hallway, clutching the door way to his room.

         “I’m not Debbie, silly!” He tensed. There was a tap on his shoulder, he spun around toward the voice.

          A little girl with pink cheeks and brown curly hair stood behind him. Her frilly baby blue dress looked like she was dressed as a square from the 50s; she had on little white gloves and a yellow flower in her hair. She smiled sweetly.“Debbie’s with the living.”

          “Uh, what?” Ian blinked a couple times making sure that there was, in fact, a random 11 year old in front of him.

          “Oh, right, newbie.” She grabbed his hand pulling him to his bed and making him sit. Ian was so dumbfounded that he didn’t even question sitting next to her. She crossed her legs at her ankles and patted down her skirt. She cleared her throat, “I’m Loretta.” She put a hand to her chest, gesturing. “Welcome to your soul dimension.” She gestured around her. “I’ve been assigned to you, Ian Gallagher, to help you understand and cope.”

          Ian shook his head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, kid.”

          “Loretta.” She ground out, “My name is Loretta- not kid. You new souls never get that.”

          Ian stood, “Okay, _Loretta_ , it’s time for you to go.” He grabbed her by the arm pulling her up. “You can’t just go into people’s houses spewing crazy talk.”

          She groaned in annoyance, “Why does this always happen?” She started grumbling about how she hated her job.

          Ian was almost through the end of the hallway with her when suddenly he felt his grip go slack, he looked down to the little girl but she was gone- just vanished. Ian got a shiver up his spine. He ran down the stairs and grabbed his jacket. He muttered a “fuck that” before pulling the front door open.

\--

          Sometimes life treats you terribly.

          And all you wish for is for death to take you.

          Mickey rolled over, shoving his face in the pillow. A knock on the front door pushed his eyes open. Who the fuck is that?

          You see, Mickey Milkovich has wished for death once or twice. Whether or not he was serious- we’ll never know because the one thing that Mickey lives for he has in death. Ian Gallagher.

          Mickey sloppily rolled out of the bed, he knocked his shoulder into the door way of his room on the way out. Mickey propped himself against the wall, he grunted out in pain- but not from his shoulder. He felt like the back of his head was being torn out. The wildest of headaches attacked his brain and his lungs felt like they’d collapsed.

          The first time death saw Mickey he was young- Death took his mother’s soul right from the little boys grasp. He remembers crying for his mom while his dad dug a hole in an empty lot down the street. Mickey had befriended death after that- hoping it’d bring him to his mother.

          The knock on the door sounded again. “Fuck, wait a minute!” He grabbed the back of his head and rubbed, hoping the pain would stop. He twisted the handle in his hand and Ian pushed against it and into the house, making Mickey stumble back. “Woah, calm the fuck down, Gallagher.”

          Ian pushed passed him, “Some weird shit happened at my house, Mick. Like, I’m all alone when suddenly there’s this gir- Hey are you okay?” Ian finally looked at the older boy clutching the back of his head.

          “Just a little headache.” He started to move into the kitchen with Ian following. “So what weird shit?”

          Ian sat on the counter and Mickey handed him a beer from the fridge, “There was this little girl just in my house! She started saying freaky ass things like ‘Debbie’s in the land of the living.’” He put up air quotes with his fingers and put on a deep ghost like voice for when he relayed Loretta’s words. “And then when I was about to kick her to the curb she vanished!” He took a swig from his beer as Mickey sat at the kitchen table with an amused look on his face. “Like, into thin air, Mick. _Vanished._ ” Ian’s eyes sort of bulged.

          Mickey let his head fall back in a laugh, “Ya tryna tell me you got a ghost in your room, Firecrotch?”

          Ian suddenly jumped from the counter, “I DO.”

          Mickey’s laughter continued, his boyfriend was honestly the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. “Well,” Mickey stood, his hands slapping his thighs. “Let’s go see this fuckin’ ghost of yours.”

         “Oh, no need.” Mickey jumped and spun around. In the living room, sitting on the back of the couch with her legs crossed at the ankles, was Loretta.

         “What the fuc-”

          “Ya know, I’m kinda disappointed- your track record says you two should be doin’ it by now.” She let out a laugh as a blush appeared on both boys faces.

         Mickey took a step towards her. “What the hell are you doin’, kid?”

         Loretta’s eyes darkened. “Loretta.”

         “What?” Mickey said, his face scrunching up.

         Ian took a step forward, “Loretta, what are you doing? Who are you?”

        She stepped down from the couch, pushing away from it and into the kitchen. She opened the fridge. “Well, you didn’t really let me explain, Ian.” Her words sounded muffled because she was bent so far into the fridge. She resurfaced with a strawberry yogurt in hand, she opened it and licked the top. She hummed. “God, I haven’t had strawberry yogurt in years- maybe decades. You sir,” she pointed to Mickey. “Are now my favorite.”

          Mickey’s eyes flashed to Ian, “Uh, thanks?” Ian shrugged at him.

          She sat at the kitchen table, “Okay, so boys- wait, do you have a spoon?” Mickey pulled out a drawer and handed her a silver spoon. The two boys stood awkwardly, giving each other glances of doubt. “Well sit down.” She gestured at the three empty chairs at the square table. The boys scrambled to pull out a chair. “So here’s the dealio- and I know I can’t just come out and say it but I will because you guys look tough-” She waved her spoon around nonchalantly. “You’re dead.”

          Mickey snorted and crossed his arms, “Yeah, okay.”

          Loretta licked her spoon and made a popping sound with her mouth. “Shut up.” Mickey rolled his eyes. “Anyway, you’re in a place called a soul dimension- it’s a place where your soul goes once you die. In your soul dimension you have to recall your life events until you figure out how you died.” She shoveled a reasonable amount of yogurt in her mouth, making her next words hard to understand. “Any quesh-shuns?”

         Mickey leaned his elbows on the table, about to speak but Ian beat him to it. “How do we do that?”

         Mickey hit his arm, “Do you seriously think we’re fucking dead right now?”

          Ian shrugged, acting like he was just humoring the girl- but there was something about her; maybe it was her honest brown eyes that reminded him so much of Fiona.

          “Well,” Loretta licked her lips, dropping the spoon in the empty yogurt cup and leaning back putting her feet up on the table. “There are many ways, dear Ian. Some souls get assigned a guide.” She jabbed a thumb at herself, then a finger at him. “So you. And then there are others who get objects.” She pointed to Mickey.

          “What? What objects?” Mickey said. She held up her finger as if to say “One Sec.”

          Her eyes wondered the kitchen, she stood and opened the freezer. She pulled out a flippable open and close sign- one Ian remembered distinctly. It was the sign for the Kash and Grab.

          “Ha, they always put the first one in a weird place.” She dropped it on the table between the boys.

          Mickey ran his thumb across his bottom lip, he was nervous. Nervous that maybe little hop-scotch here was right- they were dead. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with an open/close sign?”

          She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “You’re dense.” She lifted Mickey’s hand and then Ian’s, “This might be strange. I think this one goes back 5 or 6 years.”

          Ian was about to ask what she meant when she dropped both boys hands on the sign. Suddenly, Ian was in the freezer of the Kash and Grab putting milk on shelves. He was 15 again. He tried to move his body- he couldn’t. He couldn’t speak either. It was like he was just watching a movie play out in front of him from his own point of view, not having to worry about running when Mickey and his brothers slammed the front doors open.

          “IAN GALLAGHHHERR! YOU MESSED WITH THE WRONG GIRL!” Mickey felt his lips move, felt his vocal cords vibrate- but he wasn’t controlling them.

          Ian dropped the milk cartons and started to sprint, he felt his heart pick up speed. “Shit!” The three Milkovich brothers moved like lightning after the boy they believed harmed their sister.Ian ran to the back room shoving himself inside and locking the door, he held himself against it.

          Mickey rammed his body into the door that Gallagher had just disappeared to. “Get out here! Mandy told us what you did, you piece of shit!” Mickey felt the pain shoot up his arm as he punched the door repeatedly. He wanted to stop, he wanted to go back in time and tell his young self that Ian hadn’t done anything to Mandy. “Get out here!” He pushed on the door once more.

          “He’s gone.” Kash came into his side view. “There’s a door in the back of the store room.”

          Mickey pushed one of his brothers and frantically pointed to the front of the store, “ALLY!” He demanded. “ALLY!” His brothers went off. He grabbed Kash by the collar, “You tell fuck head that this isn’t over.” Mickey laughed inside himself as the memory played and he ran out- Kash was such a fuck up.

          Their eyes clouded over until they were back in Mickey’s house with Loretta grinning down at them. They were both panting and their hands were gripping each other over the slowly disappearing open sign.

          “How-?” Ian sputtered out.

          “It’s the beginning of the end.” Loretta said. “It’s the first memory that was leading Mickey to his death.”

          Mickey swallowed, “But it was just me chasing after Ian. What does that have to do with my death?”

          Loretta shrugged, “I guess that was where your relationship started- your relationship is what killed you, Mickey. That’s all I know from Ian’s file.”

          Mickey shook his head, “How-” He sighed. “How could _this_ kill me?” He squeezed Ian’s hand and gave the red head a sad once over.

          Ian bit his lip. He understood his feeling of loss from before- he’d lost his life.

          Loretta frowned, “Hey.” She put her hands on both boys’ shoulders. “It’s okay, guys. Being dead isn’t that bad- you have each other right?” She tried a reassuring smile.

          “Yeah.” Mickey stood, he took the pack of cigarettes off the table and went outside. He couldn’t believe this.

          Ian dropped his head down on the table.

          Loretta tapped her toe awkwardly, “Uh, I’ll just leave you guys to think.” When Ian lifted his head again she was gone.

\--

          Mickey blew smoke from his nostrils. He hoped Mandy was okay- since he wasn’t there to protect her anymore. She was tough but she had always looked to him or Ian for friendship, for love and they were both gone- somewhere buried six feet under. Fuck, he couldn’t believe this. He heard the back door creak open. Ian took the cigarette from between his lips and took a drag. “The trees- they sway but there’s no wind.”

          “Huh?” Ian’s eyebrows creased as he looked into the back yard. Mickey was right- there was no wind yet his hair was blowing softly and the trees swayed.

          “I hope no one mourned my dumbass.” Mickey said, grabbing the cigarette back.

          Ian shook his head, “This is just some fucked up dream, Mick.”

          Mickey snorted, “Okay.”

          “I would’ve mourned you.” Ian turned to Mickey and grabbed his waist pulling the shorter guy towards him.

          “You better have,” Mickey muttered. “Or else I would’ve haunted your ass.”

          Ian smiled, “Technically, you are haunting me.”

          Mickey dropped his head on Ian’s shoulder, “What if we’re really dead, Ian?”

          Ian sighed and looked around the backyard once more. “Then-” He paused when Mickey raised his head to look him in the eyes. “Then we’ll just have to deal with being alone together while we figure this shit out.” Ian tugged Mickey closer by his neck and said against his lips, “I think we can do that.” Mickey pushed forward and kissed Ian softly. At least they still _felt_ alive.


	2. Loretta and the Soul Scarred Lovers

          Mickey clutched his fingers around damp, sweat soaked hair at the nape of Ian’s neck as they rocked in a rhythm. His pants started to sound choked out because of the way Ian sucked and bruised his neck. Mickey pulled his head up with his hands and connected their reddened lips, he felt the vibration on his tongue as Ian grunted in his mouth. Mickey couldn’t hold in the redhead’s name from spilling out of his mouth as their lips fell apart. Ian dug his fingers into Mickey’s hip at the call of his name, his other placed next to Mickey’s ear- supporting his hover over the dark haired boy. The heel of Mickey’s foot pushed into the small of Ian’s back, he let out a moan against Mickey’s throat.

          A squeak sounded from behind Ian, “Oh. Oh my gosh!”

          Mickey pushed at Ian’s shoulders, forcing him off. “Fuck!”

          “Sorry, guys.” Ian turned to see tiny Loretta covering her eyes with her hand. “Wow,” She did the sign of the cross as the boys threw the sheet over themselves. “Unholy thoughts in my mind.”

          Mickey threw his head back against the pillow and groaned in annoyance, “What the fuck? You’re like 12!” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

          “Hey, I was born in 1942!” She shot back, “Waaaayyy before you! I never got to do these things!”

          Mickey faked throwing up on Ian, “Shut up, Milkovich!”

          Ian rolled his eyes, “What are you here for, Loretta?”

          She walked over to the bed gingerly and sat, leaning on Mickey’s stomach. “You have no shame, do you?” Mickey mumbled. Over the last two weeks Mickey had gotten from Loretta that she viewed him as a brother and that she would do anything and everything in her power to annoy the shit out of him- especially popping up out of nowhere when him and his Gallagher were going at it.

          “None.” She shook her head the grinned at Ian- taking in the sight of his shirtless form. “Gosh, why weren’t they built like you in the 50s?” She dreamily leaned her head on her fist over Mickey’s stomach.

          Mickey shoved her arm, “Get to your point or beat it, Sock-Hop.”

          “A jealous Mickey is a cute Mickey.” She giggled.

          Mickey looked at Ian with his eyebrows raised, “Seriously Ian, I can’t. I can not deal with this prepubescent shit anymore!”

          Ian hit his boyfriend’s arm, “So what’s up, Lor?”

          “Well,” She stood up and spun in a circle, making the skirt of her dress poof out. “I just wanted to know if Mickey got his second object yet.”

          Mickey was leaning sideways off the bead attempting to reach his boxers on the floor a few feet away. “No.”

          Loretta picked them up and shoved them in his face, “Any idea what it might be?”

          Mickey stood after he slipped his boxers on under the covers. “N-“

          Ian cut Mickey off, “A tire iron.”

          Mick’s head whipped to his boyfriend, a grin on his face. “Shit, I’d have no problem reliving that.”

          Loretta sat crisscross on the ground looking up at the boys curiously, “What’s the significance of a tire iron?”

          Ian sucked in a breath, about to answer- but Mickey shot himself onto the bed and placed his hand over Ian’s mouth. “No- No fucking way! Do not tell her! She’d just go about fantasizing all day!”

          Loretta clasped a hand over her mouth, “You did it with a tire iron! You guys are sic-“ Mickey tackled her. Mickey, over the last two weeks, has come to the realization that Ian’s little ghost companion was a lot like Mandy- a tough little bitch that could wrestle.

          Ian leaned up on his elbow looking down at the pair- a smile lit up his face. So far being dead hasn’t been that bad. Ian and Mickey sort of felt free; like they could be themselves without the consequences of judgment or a beating. They were just alone- well except for their random drop ins from Loretta, but Ian could tell that Mickey enjoyed when she came around. He knew it had to do with how much he missed Mandy.

          “Mick-“she giggled. “Mick- I can’t-” She let out breathless wheezes of laughter. “I can’t breathe!”

          Mickey didn’t let up, “Say ‘I’ll never look at Mickey Milkovich’s man for as long as I’m dead!’”

          “You’re such a child, Mick!” Ian said plopping back into the pillows with a laugh.

          Loretta started to choke for air, “I-I’ll never-HAHA- look at M-Mickey Milkovich’s man for as long as I’m d-dead!” She finally gasped as Mickey leaned back. “Can’t promise I won’t look at Mickey Milkovich though!”

          Mickey went on the attack again but she vanished. “God, she’s too much.” Ian sighed happily.

\--

         Ian closed the door to the Gallagher home. “Hey, Lor!” he called, “You here?”

         She walked out of the kitchen with a tube in her hand. “Obviously. Hey, I found something in your fridge.”

         “Oh yeah?” Ian took off his jacket and threw it on the couch.

          She looked at the tube then up at him, “It’s called a Gogurt- yogurt on the go. You’ve been holdin’ out on me, Gallagher.”

          He chuckled and walked past her, taking a beer from the fridge. “Why do you like yogurt so much anyway?”

          Loretta tensed as she was lifting herself up to sit on the counter. Ian leaned against the sink. “Um,” She sucked at the tube. “My mom used to give it to me every day after school.”

         Ian nodded, “You miss her?”

         “Ha- more than anything. You and Mickey are the first ones to have yogurt in your soul dimensions. I thank you for that.” She clinked her tube to Ian’s beer bottle.

          “Debs used to eat those all the time.” Ian looked down at the tile floor. Fuck, he missed everyone so much.

          She scooted closer, “Tell me about them.”

          Ian smiled, “Where do I begin? God- Fiona, she’s my older sister, she kept us all alive most of our lives. I honestly owe her so much, she’s the best. Oh, and Lip- Jesus Lip- he’s so fuckin’ smart. He’s my older brother- we used to get into so much shit together.” Loretta smiled at how enthusiastic Ian got when speaking of his siblings. “Oh, you’d like Carl- lady charmer that one. He’s 14 and he basically gets more ass than Lip ever did.”

         “I’m sure I’d fall for him in a second.” Loretta said.

         “Well, if you like Mickey you’d for sure like Carl- at the end they were practically partners in crime.” Ian noticed how he had said ‘at the end’.

         “What about Debbie?” Loretta asked.

          “Deb is like you.” Ian looked at Loretta with a loving smile. “Completely boy crazy- hell she tried to date a 20- something year old at thirteen!”

          Loretta let out a laugh, “That’s my girl! Did he go for her?”

          “Of course! My sister is gorgeous!” Ian could picture all of their faces- he felt an ache in his chest but kept his smile for Loretta. No one mentioned that when you die it’s like everyone in your life seems dead to you.

          “In your file it said you had two younger brothers- one besides Carl.” Loretta stated.

          “Yeah.” Ian downed his beer. “Liam. He’s adorable.” He laughed, “He’s a little different from the rest of us though.”

          Lor nodded, “I know. I saw his picture.” She threw the empty tube down.

          There was a slight silence but Ian broke it. “How was your life?”

          She smiled, “Great. Every time I meet a new soul I’m happy I was born when I was- the times where simpler, ya know?”

          Ian nodded, “What was your family like?”

          Loretta hopped down and got a new yogurt from the fridge. “Um, well, I was an only child. Um, my mom and my dad where perfect for each other and I was hopelessly in love with the boy next door. I’m a “classic American dream”, or so every soul tells me.”

          Ian pushed away from the sink, opening the freezer and taking out a frozen pizza. “So tell me about this boy next door.” He mumbled while reading the instructions.

          She sighed, “His name was Skip.”

          Ian snorted, “Pleasantville much?”

          Lor’s brows furrowed, “What?”

          Ian shook his head, taking a mental note to show Loretta that movie at a later time.

          “We would hang out every day. He was-“

          Ian cut her off. Loretta had noticed that that was Ian’s favorite thing to do and it enraged Mickey. He cupped his hands together and batted his eyelashes, “the swellest? Oh I bet he was just the swellest!”

          “Shut up, Gallagher.” She rolled her eyes. “Turned out that I got assigned to him a couple years later.” She sighed. “He was in Vietnam, died at the age of 18.”

          “Oh, shit. That sucks.”

          “Yeah,” Loretta messed with the hem of her dress. “When he moved on was the worse though..”

          Ian put the pizza in the oven and leaned against the sink once more. “Moved on?”

          “Once you figure out your death you move on. You regenerate.”

          Ian froze, “Wait, what the fuck? Regenerate? Like, reincarnation?”

          “Yeah. Souls are recycled.” Loretta lifted herself to the counter.

          “Then why are you still here?”

          She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, horrible visions of her past life coming into view. “I’m stuck. I have unfinished business on Earth so I’m stuck between realms. Forever a servant to the one that assigns me.”

         Ian stepped toward her, “Wait, you don’t even know who assigns you?”

          “Nope.” She popped the P.

          “That’s fucked! What do you have to do on Earth?”

          She looked anywhere but Ian. “They-“ She cleared her throat. “They never found my body or my murderer.”

         “Do you know where and who?”

          She shook her head, “I just know that he shoved me in a trunk and slit my throat in a forest.”

          Ian was suddenly horrified, “Who would do that to a little girl?”

          “Who would do that to anyone?” She snapped back. She sighed, “The only souls that are stuck are the suicides and unsolved murders- and we’re forced to help souls pass on. It’s like a punishment- to see them pass; to see them forget the past life.”

          “I’m sorry.” Ian murmured.

          She laughed, “Don’t be. Nothing can be done.” Ian sighed and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to move on from this and leave Loretta behind. He didn’t want to forget his past life- forget Mickey and his family. His heart ached again. “Don’t worry, Ian. I’ll be here when you and Mickey get back.”

          Ian shook his head, “But we won’t remember each other.”

          “You’re Soul Scarred- you’ll remember.”

          Ian moved to sit at the table, Loretta following. “Soul Scarred?”

          “What- you never wondered why you and Mickey share a soul dimension?”

          Ian shrugged, “I kinda just figured that was normal.”

          Loretta shook her head with a smile on her face, “No, you and Mickey are etched into each other’s souls. You loved each other so deeply that it carved into your soul. You can’t be fully regenerated anymore.”

          Ian burst out a laugh, “Wait till Mick hears that shit.”

          Loretta rolled her eyes, “It wasn’t just you and Mickey though. Your life scarred your soul with all the tough stuff you had to go through- you and Mick both. And what truly did the soul damage was how you guys clung to each other through it all.” Ian’s grin was so wide that Loretta swore his face would crack- Joker style.

          “What’s special about being Soul Scarred?” He asked.

          She smiled a dorky smile. “You always come back to each other in whatever form the next life puts you. Like, let’s say you’re a girl in the next life and she happens to fall in love with a boy- it’s Mickey’s soul. But you will always come back to being Ian Gallagher when she dies.”

          “And Mickey’s Mickey?”

          She nodded, “And I’m still here to annoy him.” She sucked on her yogurt tube.

          Ian thought about it, “Will we have memory of being them?”

          She nodded again. “Not everyone meets a so called ‘soul mate’, ya know.” She put up quotes with her fingers. Ian shook his head, thinking of his grumpy boyfriend. But his smile started to fade at her next words, “Plus you died together. Nothing gets more horribly romantic than that.”

          “Together?” Ian coughed.

          She pulled a curl in her hair and watched it bounce up. “According to your file- died on top of each other. Kinda tragic actually.”

          Ian’s mind raced- died _together_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally Chapter 2.  
> Thank you for reading! Please comment and Kudos! <3


	3. Mandy Milkovich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry if there are any errors! Just comment below and I'll fix it!  
> Here's chapter 3!

          The baseball field was of significance- that much Loretta knew- from the dugout benches to the bases; this place held the spirit of Ian and Mickey. Loretta could practically breathe them in. She currently stood on second base willing her power over Ian’s memories to make the baseball field transform around her. Younger Mickey materialized in front of her; she stepped to the side, a small and freckled Ian, with his hands on his knees and breathing deeply, stood next to her. She smiled, she wanted to reach out and touch him- she knew she couldn’t, this was just a ghost image of a memory. She turned her head and saw Fiona holding Debbie and Carl’s hands as they screamed. Next to her Lip was leaning back in the bleachers talking to a girl his age, giving her smooth smirks. Loretta smiled at the small family.

         Just down the bleachers, though, Loretta saw something that made her frown- a drunk man was gripping his daughters arm so tight that the dark haired girl’s face was a constant wince; even when he let go. Loretta recognized her from Ian’s file even though she was younger and her beautiful face wasn’t covered in as much make-up as it usually was. Mandy Milkovich. Loretta took a step towards her, reaching out her hand to the stands. She wanted to save her, something was dragging her to Mandy Milkovich. Maybe it was the way she held in tears, maybe it was how beautiful she looked in the Chicago heat or maybe it was that Mandy was staring right at her. Loretta shook her head. She was probably just looking at Ian- there was no way Mandy could see her.

          Loretta spun in a circle making her dress poof; she spun right threw a boy running to second base. She sighed as his feelings flowed through her- he was excited, his team was winning. She walked over to Mickey, his face was scrunched in annoyance, in that moment he looked so much like his older self. Loretta lifted a gloved hand, her fingers lightly went through his face. Anger washed over her. “Why are you always so angry?” She whispered. Mickey looked through her. She wished she could talk to him- he was so young, he had to have some childhood joy.

         She walked to home base and looked up and met the blue eyes of Mandy Milkovich. Loretta‘s eyes widened and she sucked in a breath, automatically making the memory dissipate so the field was empty of the past. Mandy could see her. Mandy could pierce the veil. She slowly backed away from the field disappointed- she hadn’t got to see Mickey piss on first base.

\--

          “Mickey!”

          Mickey choked on his beer, “Fuck, Lor!” He leaned up on the couch to stop the beer dripping from his chin and onto his shirt.

         “Sorry, Mick.” Loretta plopped down next to him, grabbing for the beer in his hand. He let her take it. “I found something out.”

         “Oh yeah?” He said while watching her down the end of his bottle.

         “About Mandy.” Mickey automatically sat up, turning off the TV. They had quickly found out that normal cable didn’t work once you were dead so they were living off of stolen DVDs.

          “What about her?”

          Loretta leaned back into the couch and took in Mickey’s concerned face. “You really love her,” was all she said.

          “Fuck off.” Mickey mumbled, getting up to grab another bottle.

          “It’s okay to love your family, Mick. Stop being such a grump!” She bounced up and followed him to the kitchen.

          “So what the fuck you gotta say about Mandy?” He put the bottle neck at the edge of the counter then pushing down on it with the heel of his hand, popping off the cap.

          “Mandy can pierce the veil. She saw me when I went back to one of Ian’s memories.”

          “Fuck does that mean?” He chugged down half the bottle.

          “It means,” she punched him in the arm. “That if I bring you back with me she’ll be able to see you. Maybe even talk to you if her power is strong enough.”

           He pinched her arm. “Well get to this memory shit, Sock-Hop.” He set his bottle down and Loretta grabbed his arm, pulling him into the living room with a giggle. Mandy and Ian playing video games materialized on the couch and a younger Mickey slammed through the door.

\--


	4. Kash 'n' Grab

          Mickey’s ceiling wasn’t covered in posters of half nude girls anymore, his walls no longer held stupid drawings he used to doodle in high school. It was like he had no memory of the boy he used to be; except for the ink laced into the skin of his knuckles. He lay on his bed, his arms and legs spread out. His chest rose and fell calmly. He wanted to thank Ian, almost… for changing him and turning him into a person that mattered. He flexed his fingers, curling them into tight fists and then letting his fingers fall open lazily. He was dead now though. And he figured he should thank Ian for that as well. It was their relationship that turned him into a walking Day of the Dead after all. He heard the thud of something falling onto the nightstand next to him. He turned his head and frowned at the object. “Oh fuck that shit.” He muttered. A snickers bar lay on his side table.

          Loretta had yelled at him to touch every object or Ian would pass before him. It’s not like Ian wouldn’t come back but Ian would have to live that life time alone with no love interest and probably be a cat lady or some shit. Mickey groaned and sat up on the edge of the bed; being shot by Kash was one of the most annoying experiences of his whole shitty adolescent life. Before reaching over to grab the candy bar, he silently thanked Loretta for taking Ian out to wherever the fuck so he could begin his “coping process.” The edge of the wrapper crinkled against the force of his finger.

          He’d expected to be walking into the Kash ‘n’ Grab… But he was sitting on his couch now, Mandy pushing his thigh with her booted foot. “Move over, ass face!” She whined. “You’re taking up the whole fuckin’ couch!”

         He rolled his eyes and dragged on his cigarette. Mickey didn’t remember this day, this moment. It was so general and normal that he didn’t understand the significance… That was until there was knocking and pounding on the front door.

         “Not it!” Mandy yelled, shoving him. He flicked his cigarette at her and stood. “Ow! The fuck Mickey!” She jumped and brushed at the holes now in her white t-shirt.

         Mickey’s legs moved and he could see the glow of red hair through the little clouded window of his front door, the pounding continued. He threw open the door. “What the fuck?”

          Gallagher looked a mess, his face holding an emotion that young Mickey absolutely did not want to fuckin’ deal with. “I need to see you.” Ian’s voice shook.

          Mickey felt his heart pick up. He definitely remembered this day. He remembered how he wanted to help Ian, to make him feel safe, to actually… fuck, to actually love him. “Not a good time.” His cigarette bounced between his lips as he spoke. He remembered wanting to sound harsh to send the panic-ing boy away so he couldn’t think about caring for him. Mickey chuckled at his younger self- if only he knew the future, of all the risks he’d take for this dumb freckled kid; how he’d eventually die for him. He heard his brother yelling some muffled shit about a pull up bar from the back of the house.

          “I- I don’t know where else to go.” Ian had only looked for him back then and Mickey was too dumb to even care to look back.

         Mickey softened. He wanted to reach out and grab Ian like he did now that they were older. Fuck, he wished he could go back and stop being such a scared little shit. “I thought you were working today?”

         “Linda’s gonna have my ass. I’m supposed to be there now.” Mickey’s eyes traveled over Ian’s face as he spoke, absorbing his features like he was trying to somehow speak calming words through looks.

         “I’ll meet you there in twenty.” He said giving into the disgruntled Gallagher. He shut the door.

         He seemed to flash forward because now he was in the fridge of the Kash ‘n’ Grab, with his pants around his ankles. His back was to the fridge door, Ian’s teeth biting into his neck and sucking softly. Gallagher was pumping his shaft, neglecting himself. Being put back in this scene Mickey realized that Ian just wanted to please someone to make himself feel better; maybe to even feel useful. He was breathing deeply but he managed to get out a question. “What happened?”

         Ian’s head rose, his eyes searching Mickey’s. “What?”

         He bit his lip. “What happened that you were pounding on my fuckin’ door?”

         Ian let go of Mickey completely. “My…” He paused. “My mom came back.” Mickey had heard about the train wreck that is Monica Gallagher. Frank had gone around town for a week after she left, drunk off his ass and crying.

         Mickey nodded, pushing past Ian’s shoulder and shuffling to the shelves behind the redhead. He gripped the pole, positioning himself into a slightly bent position. He turned his head back to Ian. “You gonna hit it or not, Firecrotch?” he said with a suggestive eyebrow.

         Ian smiled, unbuttoning his pants. Mickey wanted to roll his eyes at the young versions of himself and Ian. Had they really been that stubborn? Had they always pushed away feelings for sex? Shit, do they still do that?

         Mickey wanted to personally thank whoever in the soul dimensions made reliving sex possible. Even at fifteen Ian was making it hard for Mickey to suppress moans and not push back onto him like a bitch. He felt Ian’s hand grip around his-- maybe they didn’t push away emotions. Maybe sex was their way of feeling; connecting. The fridge door opened and Ian stopped. Mickey ran, pushing Kash.

          He was flashed forward once more.

         “You better keep it shut.” He tried to intimidate, the Snickers bar in hand. “You hear me?” He began to crinkle the wrapper, opening it.

         “Put the candy back, Mickey.” Kash almost whispered.

          Being the shithead Mickey was, he took a cheeky bite of the chocolate. “That’s sweet. I like ‘em sweet. But then uh, so do you, huh?” He let out a ‘ha ha’ thinking he was the wittiest fucker around. Mickey turned his back as Kash spoke of returning the bar again. The first shot was fired and Mickey jumped, spinning around. “Fuck!” Mickey was over his past self- was he honestly this ignorant?

          The second shot. “Kash, what are you doing?” Ian. Thank god.

           “It’s a fucking Snickers Bar!” Mickey had forgotten the other things he’d stolen from Kash. But the three males knew Kash didn’t have a gun raised for previously stolen items or a fucking Snicker Bar. He was finally growing a pair because Mickey had committed the ultimate crime- he’d stolen Ian. Kash aimed and fired and the perpetrator was down with a yell of “Fuck!” Then Ian was over him, applying pressure to the wound and saying calming words. Mickey had been looking into those eyes for the past 6 years yet he still had a feeling rush through him when he saw that intense green just like he did in that moment. Ian started to fade and Mickey found himself staring up at his ceiling, the Snickers Bar dissipating in his grasp.

          “Fucking Gallagher.” He muttered.

\---

           “Where are we going?” Ian said while Loretta dragged him by the arm down the street.

          “Gee, your dimension is the biggest I’ve ever been in.” She ignored his question, darting her head around to the random things graffiti-ed on the walls of the South Side. It was strange seeing an empty town. Not seeing the drug dealer that always stood on Breting Avenue, or the woman that always yelled about blow jobs on Cress. It was too calm to be his town. “Did you and Mickey paint the whole city in your spirits? Because this is pretty intense. Everything is so in detail.” Loretta stopped walking when they reached a familiar store- the Kash ‘n’ Grab. She smiled and extended her arms in a ‘TA DAH’ motion.

         “What are w-“

         “Come on!” She grabbed his arm, dragging him into the store; the bell rang at their entrance. It looked exactly the way it’d always looked. It was almost shocking. Ian hadn’t been in this store for years. He was overwhelmed- too many memories.

           “This is my favorite part.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, making sure her hand was still in Ian’s. “This is the beginning of _your_ end.” She waved her hand over the store and Ian noticed a shift in the air, some items changed to different spots, and Kash now sat at the register with a box of gum. Ian took a step back. Seeing Kash in person after all these years brought up bile from his stomach, his head started to pound. He needed this to end.

          “Lor, stop it.”

          “You have to do this, Ian. You need to cope with your life and your death.” She let go of his hand and walked around the store, touching random fruits.

           The door dinged behind Ian; a dirty, younger Mickey Milkovich entered the store- obviously with mischief in mind. Ian backed away slowly. “Mickey,” he whispered.

          “Yeah, I just love seeing him alive. He’s truly somethin’ else, huh?” Lor said from somewhere in the small store. “He almost looks 10 times prettier, right?”

          “Loretta, he’s a dirty thief. What are you talking about?” He said, following Mickey as he stole things- just trying to get a better look.

          “Oh please, you were so smitten by him because of his dirty thug look.”

          Ian reached out, his hand melted through Mickey. A feeling washed over Ian, he smiled; he felt invincible, he felt like a god, like he could fuck up anyone- he felt like a Milkovich.

          “His feelings are remarkable, aren’t they?” Loretta appeared next to him, smiling at Mickey. “They make you feel-” she waved her hands around, trying to look for a word. “I don’t know. He’s powerful though.”

          Ian let out a laugh at Mickey’s line about barbeque Pringles and nodded at Loretta.

          “Oh wait!” Ian went to follow Mickey out of the small convenience store. “You’re so cute!”

          “ _Did Mickey pay for that_?” Ian tensed and turned away from the door, seeing himself laying a box on the counter. He didn’t even recognize himself. He was freckled and short and way too focused on Kash than he should’ve been. Loretta giggled, she had her fingers brushing through the younger Ian’s cheek.

         “You’re thinking about hurting Mickey for robbing the store.” She continued to feel. “But you think he’s sort of sexy so you won’t.” She’s laughing harder now, and Ian rolls his eyes and listens to Kash and his conversation. Mickey reentered. “You hate him.” She murmurs, her eyebrows creasing. “But you feel like you can help him?”

         “ _Jesus, Kash._ ” Younger Ian pushed away from the counter. Ian followed after, only watching them through the glass of the front door.

         “You fell for him in this moment, ya know.” Loretta moved up next to him.

          He shook his head, “That’s not true.”

          “Yeah, well, your file said this is where it started.”

          He smiled as he heard Mickey say, “ _You know where I live if you got a problem_.”

          “I love that part.” Loretta sighs.

           “Yeah,” Ian chuckled. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long! I've been working on my Coffee Shop/ College AU for the Shameless Big Bang! But I'm coming back and I have a couple one-shots/ AUs queued up for you all! Also, follow me on my gallavich tumblr: like-em-sweet.tumblr.com OR my personal: mickovichandmumbles.tumblr.com! Love you guys!


	5. Juvenile Phone Calls

          “So if we’re dead,” Mickey grumbled out words; his mouth full of way too much pizza. “Why do we have to eat?”

          Loretta rolled her eyes, spooning yogurt between her pink lips. “You don’t, stupid. It’s just a habit carried over from life. It’s a comfort.”

          It had become a habit of death, to sit around some nights and eat the constantly refilling supply of frozen pizzas from the Gallagher house and watch the DVDs the Milkovich clan had stolen over the years. They were currently all smashed into the Milkovich couch with a Spider Man movie lighting up the screen; Ian had claimed that Mandy and him had stolen it together when they were sixteen. Ian peered down at his watch. 1:46. It’s not like he’d expected it to change.They heard the clonk of a hard object hitting the drywall of the kitchen. Mickey’s head fell back against the couch. “Not again,” he groaned.

          Loretta bounced up. “What number is this Mickey?”

          “Four? Five? Fuck if I know.” He stood slowly, whipping the pizza grease from his mouth on the back of his hand. “It’s inconvenient as shit.”

          “Oh, there’s something more inconvenient than death?” Ian asked, standing as well. Mickey’s shoved his shoulder and moved on to the kitchen; throwing a ‘shut the fuck up’ behind him.

          Hanging from the kitchen wall, just a simple metal cord poking out from the wall, was a black phone. Mickey leaned his shoulder against the wall and looked to Loretta and Ian before hesitantly putting the phone in his palm. He didn’t know when, but at some point receiving objects felt personal and he didn’t really want Loretta or Ian watching him. The plastic phone was cool against his skin but nothing happened. His eyebrows scrunched together. Why wasn’t this working? He looked up frantically, “Lor, I-” He was cut off by the twelve year old holding up her hand, only her thumb and pinky out of a fist; she put it up to her face in an ‘on the phone’ motion and gave him a look that told him he was actually the densest person she’d ever met in her whole death. He raised the phone to his ear, but still nothing happened. “Loretta, it’s not wor-”

           “Not me. Kash. I told him you might still press charges.” A voice crackled through the phone, it sounded a large distance away.

           “Thanks.” He muttered. He heard a smirk in his voice. He shook his head. He was still standing in his kitchen across from his two death partners.

           “How long?” He recognized the voice as Ian’s from years ago. So young- yet to be wronged by the boy on the other side of the glass.

           “I don’t know. It’s supposed to be a year, right?” The words tumbled from his lips like he was reciting from a script. The Ian across from him smiled, knowing exactly what memory this was. “Maybe a couple months if I don’t do anything stupid.”

           “Like what?” Younger and older Ian’s voices collided as both of them spoke the same line; the Ian of the now smirked at Loretta. Ian had often thought of this time, of when he and Mickey were separated by glass. He’d seen a softness in Mickey that he knew would lead to beautiful things.

           “Like stab that fat fuckin’ mick who keeps trying to steal my Jell-O!” Mickey shook his head and rolled his eyes as the angry juvenile words danced off his tongue.

           “Who me?” Ian put on a deep voice as he stood next to Loretta, making her giggle at the scene unfolding.

          Mickey had no choice but to reply; his body on Memory-Autopilot. “Yeah!”

          “Fuck you!” Ian laughed out, not able to keep up his thuggish deep voice.

          A soft voice traveled through the phone, only heard by Mickey. “I miss you.”

          “Say that again and I’ll rip your tongue out of your head.” Loretta frowned, turning to Ian questioningly. “Take your hand off the glass.” Mickey said.

           Loretta punched Ian in the arm. “You did not! You put your hand on the glass?”

           “It was a joke!” Ian replied, picking up the little girl (who shrieked and yelled demands of being put down) and moving back to the living room. Ian knew the memory was practically over.

           “I’ll try to get Mandy to come see you,” he heard over the phone.

           “Doubt that. She’s too busy trainin’ to be a prostitute.” He slid down the wall and into a sitting position. It was strange talking to younger Ian this way, not seeing his freckled face or his dumb smirks.

           “She just hates the guards.”

           “Who doesn’t?”

           There was a pause. Mickey knew that he was probably looking around at the other delinquents, trying to see if they noticed him talking to Ian. “I’ll see you in a year, Mick. Or maybe less. Don’t do anything stupid.”

          “Fuck off, Gallagher.” Mickey knew that he had wanted to say _I won’t._ The phone started to dissipate in his palm and he finally had control of his voice again.

          Ian entered the kitchen. “Do I ever shut up?” He smirked. He put his hand out to help Mickey from the floor. “Come on, the rest of the pizza is getting cold.” Mickey took Ian’s hand. Fuck, he was glad that there would never be glass, physically and metaphorically, between him and Gallagher ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just... I have Friday off from school so expect more of this story. I miss it. Thanks for reading guys!


	6. Turning Vanilla

          Vanilla.

          Debbie’s hair always smelled of vanilla; Holy would steal their shampoo from the nearest salon. The Gallagher’s house always smelled like vanilla when Fi made pancakes on Sundays. When Mandy had started dating Lip, she had sprayed all his sleep clothes to smell like the perfume Iggy had gotten her two Christmases before, Vanilla Twilight. Ian had learned that the smell of vanilla gave him a light, fluffy feeling.

          And Mickey… Mickey was _turning_ vanilla right before his eyes. He wasn’t angry anymore. He didn’t flip him off as much or yell ‘fuck off’ every time they ended a conversation. He didn’t make rude jokes about Ian being a stripper once or about one of his episodes going so high that Ian had been a prostitute for a week. No, now Mickey cuddled up to him on the couch when their dimension turned dark. He told Loretta embarrassing stories about Ian in little league, and he would sit in Mandy’s room sometimes just lying on the bed with her pillow over his face, breathing deeply.

          Ian knew the exact moment when Mickey started turning vanilla, started turning _soft._ He’d raced to the Gallagher house, where Ian and Loretta were arguing about the love Monica actually showed for Ian, and slipped on the icy stairs in his haste. He’d crashed through the door, grabbed Ian to the side, and kissed his mouth hotly. He had murmured apologies against Ian’s pink mouth; Ian could feel the slight dampness of the other boy’s cheeks. Loretta had stood, a folder appearing in her hands, and wrote down every detail of Mickey’s movement. This was important. Mickey was seeing the things he did in life that were wrong, he was apologizing for the things he had done- apologizing to the people he had broken.

          “I didn’t want to leave. I’m so sorry.” Ian pulled away, his hands to Mickey’s shivering shoulders- he’d left his house in nothing but jeans and a browning white tank top.

          “Mick, what are you talking about?”

          “Iggy’s gun! I didn’t know it was an object! I’d forgotten that I threw it out years ago. Then I was with you, in the store, and I didn’t mean it. I lied. I thought I was protecting you. You need to know that I was protecting you.” Mickey’s words were rushed, some of his sentences flying together.

          “Mickey, what the fuck are you talking about? Calm down.” Ian’s face was the picture of confusion.

           Mickey took a deep breath, eyes searching Ian’s face. He threw a quick glance at Loretta before lightly running two fingers over Ian’s bottom lip and saying, “You’re not just a warm mouth to me.”

           Ian’s hands dropped from Mickey’s shoulders. “I know that, Mick. I knew that a long time ago.”

           But now, standing in the same spot, days later, Ian could hear Mickey humming softly in the kitchen while mixing batter in a bowl. “Is there anything weird about Mickey?” Ian leaned back, peering into the kitchen from the Gallagher family sofa.

          “No,” Loretta yawned. She lay on the couch with her head in his lap, turned toward the television. “This is normal.”

          “What exactly is this?” Ian frowned at Mickey’s whispered singing of ‘Happy Birthday.’ It, by Ian’s knowledge, was no one’s birthday.

          “His soul is approaching peace. He’s being who he always was on the inside.”

          Ian frowned; his Southside thug of a badass boyfriend always wished to be a cake baking house wife type? He doubts it. Ian’s leg twitched, wanting to stand and ask Mickey what the _fuck_ he was doing.

          “No.” Loretta slapped his knee. “Don’t bother him. He’s going to pass on soon; don’t interrupt his process.” Ian’s heart hammered. Pass on? _Soon?_ No. He scrambled up off the couch.

          “Hey, Mick! What’re you up to?” Ian smiled, leaning against the counter where Mickey was pouring cake batter into a square pan.

          Mickey smiled at his boyfriend. “Making mom’s cake. She used to teach me how to bake before she died.” Ian’s eyes wondered all the random ingredients thrown around the kitchen.

          “She didn’t teach you how to clean up?” Ian let out a solid laugh and turned his head, feeling Loretta’s glare from the living room.

          Mickey shook his head, leaning down to the oven and pushing the cake inside. “Ha, guess not.” Mickey stood straight again, turning the dial of the kitchen timer and placing it on the counter. “It’s her birthday today. January 20th.” They knew they died November 7th; they’d been here for 74 days.

          “Oh.” Ian was almost shocked. Mickey had never really talked about his mother. Ian fiddled with the closest ingredient bottle. _Vanilla._

          “Yeah.” Mickey scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Mandy and me- we used to make a cake every year. Kinda a tradition.” That’s… sort of charming? It made Ian smile. Mickey, deep down, loved his mother- and his sister- more than anything in this world.

          “Happy birthday, mama Milkovich.” Ian singsong-ed. Mickey rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter, brushing flour away from his long- sleeved green t-shirt.

\--

          Loretta and Ian lay on Mickey’s bed side by side, listening to Mickey’s high pitched shower singing. Steam billowed out from the cracked bathroom door, making it float above them and stick to the ceiling.

           “When will he pass?” Ian whispered.

           Loretta’s little chest rose as she sucked in a sigh. She lifted her hands toward the ceiling fixing her frilly white gloves. “You never know.” She flipped on her side, facing him. “And don’t try to prevent it, Ian. No matter how hard you try to keep him with you it won’t work.”

           Ian’s eyes stung. Sure, he knew that they would always end up back here. That they’d always be together, but Ian couldn’t let go of him for a second, not after the life they’d lived. “How do I catch up to him?”

          She sat up, and grabbed Ian’s hand. The room around them transformed. “We jump around to the important parts.” She said. Ian and Mickey shoved through the door, attached at the lips, sweat stained shirts pushed halfway up their bellies. The room was hot, and Ian felt like his winter sweater was way too much for it wasn’t January 20th in his chilly soul dimension anymore, it the burning summer of 3 years prior that Ian remembered like it could’ve been yesterday.

          Loretta scooted to the side, pushing Ian over a bit as the couple crashed onto the bed next to them, laughter echoing in the empty Milkovich house. Ian noticed that the room was the way Mickey used to have it, all woman posters and stupid doodles. He realized Loretta had them squished against the wall because they weren’t in Mickey’s big bed that he was forced to share with Svetlana- this was Mickey’s small bed that held no promise of after sex cuddling or sleeping on his plaid, worn sheets.

           “Stupid fucker.” Mickey muttered against Ian’s swollen lips.

           “Shut up.” Ian pushed Mickey’s shirt over his head.

           Ian remembered this; he could hear the action movie still playing in the other room. Ian remembered the hours that were to come- what would happen the next morning, what Terry would do to them. Ian scooted off the bed, pulling Loretta away from the feverish couple.

          “This isn’t important.” He sat on the broken, brown leather couch Mickey had in his room so long ago.

          Loretta stood with her back to the two boys on the bed. “Yes it is Ian. Just listen.”

          Ian closed his eyes, letting moans and grunts travel to his ears. His face lit up scarlet at the presence of Loretta in the room. “Nothing important is going on. It’s just sex-”

          “I love you.” Ian’s eyes shot open. Mickey’s cheek was stuffed into a pillow, a breathy groan escaping the lips that just admitted something Ian would call him out on weeks later.

          “When-? How-?” Ian stumbled on what to say as he watch the younger version of himself over Mickey. Mickey clenched his eyes shut, a blush fanning over his chest and shoulders, the corners of his mouth turning downwards.

          “You hadn’t heard it.” Loretta said, not looking at the act going on behind her. “He thought you didn’t love him back, ya know. Because you never said anything.”

          “I just didn’t hear him!” Ian stood. “Bring me back! I need to tell him.” Loretta smiled at his urgency. Ian understood now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know exactly how this story will be ending. One problem though- It's so difficult to get it there. So, stay with me here guys! I'll try to update frequently! Love ya! PLEASE comment and kudos! ( Please let me know if you like this, seriously!) (:


	7. Light As A Feather

          The steam had begun to clear, and the room had returned to the way it was now that Ian and Mickey were dead. Loretta smiled at Ian as though he was about to change everything not only for himself, but for her and Mickey as well. Mickey slid quietly through the bathroom door still humming some random song from life; his towel hung low on his hips.

          Ian sat at the edge of the bed. “In the summer,” he started, “the heat gets so intense that your mind gets clouded over, ya know?” Mickey nodded, used to Ian’s random ramblings, as he pulled open drawers looking for boxers.

         “And if you’re with someone, someone that is the embodiment of summer heat- someone who can light your skin on fire with just a glance, someone who you love so much- you get over whelmed.” By this point Mickey had stopped his search, turning to Ian with the corner of his mouth in an upturn. He nodded at Ian, gesturing for him to continue. Ian was always a man of words, Mickey knew. Ian’s words had always sparked something in Mickey, be it anger, sadness, or even love. “Ya see, Mick, love blinds me. It makes me lose my senses. I get lost. I can’t hear, see, think- Fuck, I can barely breathe around you.” Ian stood, stepping closer to Mickey. “That day, that summer- when you said it.” Mickey doesn’t know how he knew what day, what moment Ian was talking about, but he knew. He’s been starting to understand a lot lately. “I was lost in you. I was lost in my love for you. And maybe that wasn’t such a wise thing at that moment because I did love you, despite what you may have thought. I’ve loved you since you were a dumbass kid, on a crutch, behind a pane of glass.”

          Ian felt like he weighed less, like he had gotten a weight lifted off of his chest when he didn’t even know that there was pressure once before. He felt something fly from him; he felt like a part of him was being renewed. He would catch up to Mickey to be with him, but he would also do it to feel as light as air.

\--

         Mickey liked horror movies; even if he couldn’t get through half of one, and they made him practically jump into Ian’s lap and cover his face and ears with the blanket from Mandy’s bed. But wasn’t sitting in Ian’s lap the whole point? “WHY WOULD SOMEONE EVEN FILM THAT?” Mickey squeaked against Ian’s chest, he heard the rumbling of Ian’s laughter in his ear.

         “Mick, that is so fake! No one bleeds that much!” Ian hugged the dark-haired boy closer.

         Mickey pushed away from him, one hand over his eyes. “SHUT IT OFF. NOW.”

         Ian remembered the last time they’d watched a horror movie together, it was at the Gallagher’s. They were going to die in two weeks, little to their knowledge, and Mickey had sat feet away from Ian with a frown on his face, eyes not leaving the screen once. Mickey was like a stone, facing the blood and gore. But now, Mickey was Ian’s little, blanket clutching, vanilla boyfriend.

          Ian raised the remote, clicking the Milkovich television off. “It’s gone, ya baby.”

          Mickey pouted, standing and stretching and letting Mandy’s blanket fall from his hips. “Hating what I hate don’t make me a bitch.”

          Ian rolled his eyes, throwing over buttered popcorn at Mickey’s neck- aiming for the fresh hickey he’d made during the previews. “You’re such a loser. How had I never noticed?”

          Mickey stepped back, making his way to Mandy’s room to replace her comforter. “You’re such a fuck. How had I never noticed?” Mickey raised his middle finger as he walked off; Ian smiled, welcoming the hand insult as an old friend.

          “If you keep taking her stuff it’s just gonna smell like you!”

          “Fuck off!”

\---

          “Loretta!” Ian pushed open Mickey’s bedroom door. “Loretta?” He bit his lip. Where the fuck was she? “Lor! I thought we had to go back into my memories today!” Ian didn’t like when Mickey or Loretta didn’t answer when he called. It reminded him of when he woke up, finding no Gallagher’s in sight. He felt like fate was playing a joke on him and forcing him to live in a soul dimension alone- waiting for Mickey to return from his new reincarnated life.

          He pushed Mandy’s door open, only to be met by a younger self. He gasped, letting himself walk passed.

          Loretta sat in the corner of the room, her face twisted in concentration. “Mandy,” she whispered, then let out a breath like muttering that one name had taken all her energy.

          Mandy spun on her bed, sighing when she saw the young girl. _“Oh, it’s you.”_ _It’s you?_ Mandy knew Loretta? Ian stayed in the door way. How was Loretta talking to a memory?

          Loretta motioned with her hand to the door way, where freckled Ian had left, yelling about getting more beer.

 _“ Ian?”_ Mandy asked. Loretta nodded, moving her fingers in four different figures. _“Cute? You think he’s cute?”_ Mandy asked with a laugh.

           Ian didn’t understand. How could Mandy see her? How were they communicating? Loretta smiled, and nodded but held up her hand, asking Mandy to pause. Lor signaled again- she was using sign language.

          Mandy frowned. _“Mickey? Did you just spell Mickey? What about ‘im?”_ Lor made an ‘I’ motion.

 _No._ “Loretta!” Ian burst.

         She turned toward Ian rapidly, moving her hand over the scene, causing Mandy to disappear. “What?”

         “What the fuck are you doing? You can talk to Mandy?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN- What could Loretta be up to? Does Mandy have a bigger part in all of this than we thought? How did Ian and Mickey die? Tune in next time to get some questions answered!  
> Comment your frustrations, your concerns, your likes- Hey, comment what you think the answers to those questions are.  
> Thank you for reading, loves!


	8. Stiff as a Board

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you guys can tell, I've gone back and changed the way the chapters look. I've also decided to go back and change some of the things I'm not happy with. I'll let you know on tumblr (mickovichandmumbles.tumblr.com) when I've rewritten some things! Well, enjoy this chapter guys!  
> (Italicized parts are flashbacks!)

               Dolls were a rarity in the Milkovich house; the only things that could possibly be considered toys were Mickey's blood stained baseball bat, Iggy's poison filled water gun, and Colin's bong teddy bear (which used to be baby Mickey's). Mandy was six when she pushed Mickey down the front steps and busted his lip on the last stair; she claimed that she was bored. Mickey, only seven or eight, had stood up tall to her and clenched his fists, saying that mommy said it wasn't okay to hit girls the way daddy did, but, to him, Mandy wasn't a girl- she was his sister. He shoved her into the snow, sitting on her chest and stuffing her mouth with handfuls of dirty Southside snow. She coughed and sputtered, but she was laughing, for that's how Milkoviches played. After young Mickey was satisfied, he pushed up from the ground and extended a small hand to his littler sibling. She took it because she wasn't mad at him; this is just how their family was. They weren't friends (no Milkovich had friends), they were family- and you could push around family, make them bleed from a trip down the stairs, make them sick with dirty snow, but as long as you extended that hand in the end you held the honor of a Milkovich.

               When Mandy was nine, Mickey had turned off all the lights in the house when their father had left. He lit candles and forced all his siblings into a circle around their beat up coffee table. The older kids where saying that Mickey was acting like a baby, and a faggot (she didn’t quite know what that meant yet), and that these things never actually work. Mickey had rolled his eyes and yelled ‘shut up’ to quiet the older Milkoviches.

_“I stole it from the toy store.” He muttered, putting a thin, shiny, plastic board onto the table in front of him. Mandy had perked up, leaning forward. They’d never had a real toy before. The board was brown with black letters and strange designs of moons and suns. She waited for Mickey to speak again._

_“It was hard to fit the box under my jacket so shut the fuck up, you losers.” He brought out a triangular piece, placing it in the center of the board. “Okay so, it says that all we have to do is put two fingers on the board like this” -Mickey placed his pointer finger and middle finger together on the triangle- “and then all of our energy will flow and open the portal to the other side.” Mickey looked up from the instructions with a wide smile._

_Iggy rolled his eyes. “You don’t actually believe that shit, right, Mick?”_

_Mickey frowned. “It’s not that farfetched, asshole. Where do you think we go when we die? Heaven?” Mickey laughed at the last word._

_"No, fuck- up, the ground. Grow up, Mickey.” Iggy leaned on the table to stand up, the two other older Milkoviches following. Mickey threw the empty box at them as they grumbled away to their rooms. He crossed his arms and let out a huff, leaning into the busted up couch behind him._

_Mandy bit her lip and fiddled with the edge of the board. “Ya know, I bet we have enough energy by ourselves. We don’t need them.” She smiled when he raised his head, a few strands of dark black hair fell in his eyes._

_"No, it’s stupid.” He kicked the coffee table lightly with the edge of his foot._

_Mandy placed her fingers on the triangular die. “No, watch. It’s cool.” She paused then looked around the room expectantly. “Is there anyone here? Anyone dead?”_

_Mickey grunted and scooted closer, placing his own fingers on the die. “No, stupid. Like this- Spirits, we welcome you only if you are of positive nature.” Mandy didn’t mention to him that they lived in the most negative environment in the whole city but she guessed that didn’t matter to the spirits. “Are you here?” The die remained in the center. Mickey scowled._

_“Maybe you just have to wait? Like Colin’s computer,” Mandy offered._

_“Mands, it doesn’t work like th-” The die inched slowly toward YES._

_“Mickey! Mickey, are you moving it? That’s so not funny!”_

_Mickey stuttered, “w-what’s your name?”_

_The die started to slowly move towards ‘L’. Mandy peered away from the moving plastic to her brother as he mouthed the letters being spit out by the board with his brow furrowed. “Loretta.” He muttered. “How old are you, Loretta?” Mickey’s face leaned closer to the plastic as it continued to move. “Twelve.”_

_Mandy sat forward. “How’d you die?” Mickey glared up._

_“You can’t ask things like that,” he whispered._

_“Says who?” Mandy glared back. The die ventured to ‘GOODBYE’._

_“See? Look what you did, bitch!”_

_"Don’t call me that, Mickey!” Mandy blinked angrily at her brother. To the right of her, blinking in like a glitch on a TV screen, was a girl. Mandy gasped and pulled back. The girl had a blue dress and a kind smile, her hand on the die was covered in a white lace glove. Mandy scooted away. “Mickey!” She squeaked, but he was huffing and asking questions to the silent board. “Mickey, don’t you see her?” Mickey ignored her with an eye roll. The girl hovering the board leaned down to Mandy, waving her hand daintily in hello._

               “And since then I’ve been visiting her. She’s quiet something- she calls me her imaginary friend.” Loretta sat back in the kitchen chair.

               Ian rubbed his temples, trying to absorb the story Loretta had just told. Mandy could ‘pierce the veil’, which meant Loretta could find her within anyone’s memories and communicate with her. Loretta had been visiting Mandy for months since she’d seen her at the baseball field, trying to shape Mandy’s powers through the years. She said that Mandy was strong, that she could see ones past lives if she focused hard enough. Mandy was special, according to Loretta.

 

_“Oh my god.” Mandy whispered, with her nose touching the smeared mirror of the Milkovich bathroom. Mandy, now 12, had a huge problem- tomorrow was Valentine’s Day and she was finally going to speak to the boy of her dreams. Unfortunately, she had grown a zit the size of Texas just below her cheek bone. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’.” Her breath fogged up the glass when she spoke._

_Mickey slammed on the door, “Mandy, hurry up!” His sentence cracked in random places; his voice reaching high pitches when he raised it. “Seriously, what the fuck? I gotta piss, bitch!”_

_“Wait a sec! Shit!” She grabbed the bar of soap from the shower rack, gagging when she peeled Iggy’s long blonde hair off of the green-white bar between two fingers. “I think you can wait to jack-off, fuck-face!” She rubbed the bar in her hands under warm water, making sure it got as soapy as possible. She ducked her head low, as Mickey continued his pounding, and rubbed her broken out area ferociously. She closed her eyes, wishing for her pimple to disappear before she woke the next day. She rinsed off her face, and examined her cheek in the dirty mirror. She let out a noise of frustration when Mickey started to jiggle the handle like the annoying bastard he was._

_She opened the door swiftly, leaning against the door frame in front of her brother and put a pausing hand to his chest when he tried to push past her. Her blue eyes battled his in a contest of icy glares. “I heard a story about you, Mick.”_

_"Fuck you hear?” He frowned, gripping her hand at the wrist and tossing it angrily away from him. She made note of the winter gloves he still had on even though he got home hours ago._

_“That you and the other idiots got tattoos from Adam Slifko under the bleachers today.” She attempted grabbing at his gloves, but he pulled away. “Come on, Mickey.” She pushed his chest lightly. “What’s it look like?” Mandy was always stunned by how the Milkovich boys and the Slifko boys always happened to get into trouble together. She figured that, in a place like the Southside, heritage meant everything- Ukrainians have to stick together. “What’d ya get? ‘_ _Хлопчик Татусеві’ across your skin?”_

_“Fuck you!” Mickey knocked her shoulder and pushed into the bathroom. He wasn’t a ‘_ daddy’s boy _’._

 _“What about- ‘Південна Сторона назавжди’?” She continued mocking her brother. Mickey **was** _ Southside Forever _, they all were._

 _"Закрий свій рот, або я закрив його для вас,” He hissed, balling his fit in the front of her shirt and bringing her close._ Shut your mouth, or I’ll shut it for you, _he had said. Mandy could have her older brother on his ass in a second but she, in this moment, decided to not kick him into next Tuesday. “Я пішов на хуй до, Mandy.”_

_"Oh, you’ll fuck me up? Shove it up your ass, Mick.” She rolled her eyes, shoving him into the bathroom sink. Time seemed to stop just then; Mickey’s movements slowing like a slow-motion film. His hand reached behind him at a nail biting pace. Mandy’s heart picked up. “Mickey?” She moved forward, reaching out to him. She seemed to be moving at normal time. “Mickey stop! That’s not funny.” She grabbed him by his shirt, but pulling on him had the force of pulling someone out of a tar pit. “Mick?” His face glitches, just like the little girl did all those years ago. His features changed to those of a man; Mickey seemed to grow in height, getting wider, broader. His clothes buzzed out as well, turning from his usual old, ripped t-shirt to the uniform of a U.S. Confederate soldier. He didn’t look like Mickey anymore, besides the glow of his familiar blue eyes. She started to hyperventilate, and pound on his chest. “Mickey! Mickey! Mickey!” She chanted his name and hoped that her shit head brother would pull her out of whatever this was- that he’d be her knight in shining armor and pull her from the monsters like Lip Gallagher did in her dreams._

_"Mandy! What the fuck?” And that was that, Mickey threw her through the bathroom door way and she fell in the hallway, where Loretta sat with her legs crisscrossed Indian style._

_She turned to Loretta. “What was that?”_

_Loretta began to sign with her fingers. She had told Mandy years before that it took too much energy to actually speak to her with sound. So, Mandy had ran to the library, with Iggy in tow, and checked out every book there was on the subject of sign language; she still had them- like a Milkovich would return anything._

_“I’m gifted?”_

_Loretta nodded and signed, “very powerful. You can see a person’s past life. Mickey has many.”_

               “Mickey has multiple past lives?” Ian straightened in the kitchen chair.

               “Yup.” Loretta spooned vanilla yogurt into her mouth.

               “Wow. I still can’t believe he was in the Civil War.” Ian said incredulously.

               Loretta nodded. “And in the late 60s he was a girl named Juniper. Hell of a protestor. ‘Make love- Not war’ all that junk!” Ian’s laugh bubbled in his chest.

\---

                Mickey ran his fingers through his hair as he walked out of the front door of his home; he lit the cigarette in his hand as he bounced down the steps. He stopped abruptly in the walkway when he noticed the white van parked up on the front curb of the Milkovich house. “Shit.” It was parked in that shitty way Gallagher always did when he was sixteen, half on the curb with the back of the vehicle in the middle of the street. Mickey remembered multiple moments of that summer, in that same van, of yelling at Ian to watch the stop signs or to speed up because the pussy thought he had to abide by the speed limit. They’d always ended up pulling into an abandoned parking lot, though, talking and smoking till the back cavity of the van was full of the sound of slick skin, grunts, and small whispers.

He stepped up to the vehicle, feeling the warmth of a summer day radiating from the shiny white. He worried his lip a moment before gently raising a hand and laying it onto the hood, spreading out his fingers. He took a deep breath then he was sparkling with sweat, the sun directly in his eyes.

                Gallagher was bounding through the course he and Mickey had put together earlier that summer. They had nearly fell over in exhaustion from stealing all the junk it took to create it, but Mickey had followed through because this summer, unlike other summers with Gallagher, all he wanted from the moment he woke up to the moment the sun went down was Ian’s laugh in his ear, or to see the way Ian squinted and scrunched up his nose when the sun insulted his retinas.

                He felt the burn of smoke in his lungs, felt the cigarette way heavily between his lips. He watched Ian; he missed him. There was something about Ian at sixteen that always made Mickey force himself not to smile, to stop himself from clutching his chest to stop his heart from hammering to the beat of the butterflies in his stomach. Ian was strong, he was fast and beautiful; Ian at sixteen was a work of art to Mickey. There was a fire in that teenager, and it burned bright. Maybe it was his passion for the future or his passion for Mickey, but every time Mickey was licked by one of its flames he could feel himself falling- falling into a place that scared him shitless. And then, Ian spoke.

                _“Hey, you know that guy you beat the shit out of at that club?” Ian’s breathing was rough from his running seconds before; he paused, still holding his plastic rifle, to look up at Mickey in all his thuggish glory. Ian switched the yellow gun to a different hand, turning on his heel and doing a light jog. “Wants me to sneak into his mansion, take all of his crap.”_

 _“Really?” Mickey took in a breath of smoke; he closed one eye, making his next target the window of the building behind Ian. “High-larious.” He shot off his gun._ 500 points to Mickey Milkovich, gun extraordinaire, _Mickey thought to himself quietly as the window shattered._

_Squaring up to the next section of the teen-made course, Ian continued, “Can’t get it himself.” He started to hop through the grid on the floor, shifting from left to right. “Divorce.” He dropped to the floor, gun in front of him, and started to army crawl under the rusting grid Mickey had stolen from the dumpster of a Northside construction site. “Says I can take whatever I want. He’s loaded.”_

Yeah, yeah. He’s loaded. We fuck casually. He’s a rich Northside fucker. Screw you, Mickey, he’s older and better than you. Oh, did I mention he’s drownin’ in cash? _Mickey’s thoughts grew into a jealous rant as he mocked Gallagher. “You in?” Ian said next. Yeah, he was fucking in. He aimed his gun, purposefully cutting it too close to Ian’s squirming body. Ian, flinching away, dropped his plastic rifle and covered his face from the spewing bullets. “Jesus! Use blanks maybe,” he looked up to Mickey and crawled out to jog to the set of tiers._

_“Bring my cousins?” Mickey brought his index and middle finger up to his lips, taking away the cigarette._

_With the rifle lifted above his head as he jumped, Ian replied breathily, “yeah.”_

_“Alright, I’m in.” Mickey shot off his gun again; Ian approached him, his faced screwed up in a beautiful squint as he huffed out breaths. “Don’t know what you see in that geriatric viagroid.” Mickey leaned his arm on his knee, his leg was pulled up onto the wall where he sat. He tapped the building ash off the end of his cigarette. He licked his lips._

_“He buys me stuff,” Ian leaned the rifle end against his hip bone, “orders me room service.” Mickey shot off his gun in jealousy; Ian turned his head away from the sound. Mickey blew smoke from his nostrils, resembling an angry bull even though his face was impassive; Ian chose that as a sign to hit Mickey where it hurts… or to just really piss him off. “He isn’t afraid to kiss me.”_

Mickey was thrown forward in time, and his thoughts were still stuck on Ian’s beautiful face when he sauntered through the Milkovich back door.

_“Hey, fuckheads, Gallagher’s got a house to rob, Northside. You can take whatever the fuck you want if you help us.” His cousin and brother grunted to each other, shrugging and following Mickey out of the door._

                Mickey was tossed forward in time once more, but this time it was different. The air in the van felt stale, the mood unchanging. He realized that he, dead Mickey Milkovich, could _move._ He picked up his head from where he was picking at his nails, obviously trying to avoid looking at Ian driving. He settled his gaze on his cousin and brother in front of him, they were unmoving- frozen in time. They were laughing like hyenas, a gun frozen in the air between them; they had been tossing it back and forth.

                Mickey’s brow furrowed, “what the fuck?” He leaned up on his knees, and shuffled to the front seat. Ian sat with his shoulders slumped, one hand on the wheel and the other turning the radio dial. Mickey rolled his eyes. Teaching Ian to drive that summer was such a pain in the ass because the fucker practically tried to multitask every second of the day.

                Mickey knew what day this was; he knew what he was about to do for his and Ian’s relationship. What he didn’t know was why it seemed someone has pressed that pause button on this memory. He worried his lip, stealing a glance behind his shoulder at his family members, before leaning over the center console and bringing his hand up to smooth a thumb over Ian’s soft cheek.

                Ian unfroze and his eyes widened. “Mickey, what are you..?” Mickey bolted forward, pushing a chaste kiss to Ian’s lips.

               Wrong. This was _wrong_. This wasn’t how this memory went. Mickey disconnected their lips and pulled back to search Ian’s eyes- only to find that he had frozen again, as if nothing had happened. Then, as if this memory was rouge, the world around him started glitching and fuzzing like a computer with a virus. He felt trapped, he felt like the walls of the van were closing in. He was going to get crushed. They moved toward him further. He couldn’t get out; Ian couldn’t get out. Everything was blurred and moving inward. He couldn’t save him. They were going to die. They were going to _die._

                But Mickey was already dead, wasn’t he? He was standing in front of his house once more, back in his soul dimension. The white van didn’t dissipate like the other objects. He backed away in fear, breaths huffing out of his mouth. He had still felt alive; he had still felt his old heartbeat. And Ian- Ian was still alive somewhere. Somewhere in a far off memory, he was beautiful and laughing and _alive._

               Mickey ran. He ran, trying to feel his heartbeat, ran to feel _something._ He finally felt the weight of the situation for the first time- he was dead and so was Ian. His beautiful, redheaded, high spirited, ball of light boyfriend was gone from a world that truly needed a person like him. Their dark shitty world of the Southside no longer had the light of his smile, the wonderful sound of his laugh, or even the heart breaking sight of his tears. The world should be at a loss for losing Ian Gallagher.

               Mickey wondered how it was possible to mourn someone he saw every day. But he figured that was the problem, he saw Ian in death. _His_ death, a death that was probably coming to him for the betterment of the world. Mickey believed a world without Mickey Milkovich could go round, probably turn even better. But one without Ian, Mickey couldn’t even fathom. He felt sorry for dragging Ian down with him. For the first time, Mickey realized that it most likely wasn’t their relationship that killed them; it was him- this was all his fault.

               Milkoviches didn’t cry. As he ran down the dead roads, he guessed he wasn’t a Milkovich anymore. He would only stop running when he saw North Wallace Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, got really deep at the end... Well, Mandy does have a lot to do with the future of our dead lovers. And Mickey's mourning the death of Ian. Also, sorry for my head cannon at the begining that the Milkovich siblings can totally speak Ukrainian!  
> Next chapter, Loretta gets into more trouble with Mandy and our two favorite boyfriends have a romantic rendezvous into one of Mickey's memories.  
> Hope you guys are enjoying my story! Comment and kudos! Remember, I super love your feedback! <3


	9. Can't do it alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's been a long time. A lovely person commented on this not a long while ago and it sparked something in me tonight. Here's a little something of a continuation of a story I started years ago. It's very small but I'm starting this up again. I can't leave you guys, and Ian and Mick, hanging. As always, thanks for reading!

 

                Mickey almost tripped over his own feet when Loretta materialized in front of him, holding out her arms for him to slow down. Her voice yelling his name sounded far away. He collapsed to his knees in front of the girl, letting out a sob.

                “It’s all my fault.” He tried grabbing at the pavement to stabilize himself, but all he got was loose gravel.

                “It’s not.” Loretta was on her knees in front of him, petting the sweat soaked hair out of his face. “You have to get up, Mick.”

                “I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend I’m happy here. I can’t push away my life. I can’t push away what I did to him.” He leaned into her, gripping the gravel in his palms.

                “Mickey. Get up.” She used her gloved hands to lift his face to hers. “You need to do this. You need to get up.”

                “Why?” He let out a shaky breath.

                “Because you don’t have to do this alone.”

                                                                                                                -------------------

                Ian heard the front door shut and turned from his spot on the couch. Mickey stood with his eyes blood shot and his nose running, Loretta’s little white gloved hand in his.

                “What’s going on?”

                “It’s-“ Loretta’s eyes clenched shut as she let out a breath, visibly squeezing Mickey’s hand for support.

                Ian shot up from his seat on the Gallagher’s worn couch. “It’s time.”

                A week ago Loretta had been telling Ian that Mickey would need help soon, that Mickey was too weak to get through his last couple of memories. His soul was too fragile because he would be passing soon. _“Souls fluctuate.”_ She had said. _“When we’re brought into the world we’re strong, ya know? Before we pass on we’re fragile- we start to dim. As it is in life it Is in death.”_ Ian would have to jump into his memories with him from now on- to give him strength.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!   
> Follow and contact me at : mickovichandmumbles.tumblr.com


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